Curiosity Killed The Cat (But Satisfaction Brought Her Back)
by downfallsofbeingawallflower
Summary: "Your super power is mental acquisitiveness," Phil Coulson suggested. Artemis scoffed, shaking her head full of wild, fiery curls. "I think the word you are looking for is 'nosy'. Besides," she added, glancing over at the group of real superheroes. "That's not really a super power, Phil."
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

Coulson watched his boss stare down the young woman with dull russet hair as they all sat in a gray conference room. The vein on the side of Fury's head was pulsating visibly and his good eye went unblinking. Coulson had never been on the receiving end of Fury's constant glare and moody silence, but he had sat in on many occasions where he had to endure watching someone on the receiving end (like he was at the moment), and it wasn't pretty. Coulson had to give the girl credit, though; she was returning the director's stare with equal fervor, no words having come out of her mouth since the three of them sat around the stainless steel conference table. She was beginning to grow restless though, he noticed. She quietly drummed her fingertips on the table and chewed the inside of her cheek. Coulson knew Fury would never be the one to talk first. Early in his career with SHIELD, Coulson had gotten interrogation advice from his boss: "Never make the first move. If you want to direct the conversations, let them have the first say. Even if it takes all night. It's a sign that they're giving up."

Coulson hoped that she would crack soon, because he sure as hell didn't have all night.

As if on queue, the redhead woman sighed deeply and wiped her hands on her pants. "Listen, Mr. Fury—"

"It's Director Fury to you, Miss Romanoff." Coulson watched his vein pulse yet again.

The young woman tried to hide her frustrated huff but didn't do so well with the eye roll. This girl was asking for trouble. "My apologies, _Directory _Fury. Your agent, Clint Barton, decided to spare me—"

"A dumbass decision, really."

This time, the woman breezed right through Fury's interruption, raising her voice as she did. "—Because he saw that I was genuine. About the rejection of my family's traditions. About wanting to help SHIELD. About everything." She paused, looking from Fury to Coulson, her eyes loosing some of their coldness. "And I think, I hope, you will see this, too." She slowly sat back in her seat and wrung her hands in her lap. She was being honest, Coulson could tell; being s spy and a killer, she behaved uncomfortably in the face of sincere words. He was hardly surprised at that fact, now that he had read her file.

Natasha Romanoff, 20-year-old Russian assassin and spy. Master martial artist, expert acrobat and markswoman, professional interrogator. Parents: both dead on SHIELD's behalf. Her father had been responsible for half of the drama during the Cold War while her mother was an expert in ten different forms of martial arts. Natasha learned to throw a knife at the age of six, to shoot a gun at the age of ten, and killed her first political figure at the age of fifteen. She had the body of a cheetah; sleek, slim, and fast. She was a trained killer with enough blood on her hands to paint an entire wall. And yet, one of SHIELD's top field agents, Clint Barton, had gone against his orders and spared her life. Why? Coulson had a few hunches.

Fury's sigh brought Agent Coulson out of his thoughts. "Miss Romanoff," the director began, "I don't think it would be the best idea to take you in. After all, you have killed a lot of good people."

Romanoff looked up at his last words, her green eyes widening. "That was when I deceived! I'm not excusing my actions, but I know better now! Then, I believed that I was doing the right thing."

"And now?" Fury asked bluntly, seeming unimpressed.

"Now I know that what I did was wrong. Very wrong. I also know that I can't take any of it back. If I could, I would, believe me."

Coulson's eyes flickered back and froth between Fury and Romanoff, both of whom were staring at each other again. Director Fury had told him was to be on the ready in case something "drastic" happened. Coulson really didn't want to test his t'ai chi moves against hers because he honestly didn't know who would come out on top. So he decided to keep on the edge of this one and observe how things would play out.

Fury eyed the young redhead wearily, his large hands laid flat on the table. He looked like he was fighting himself, brows knitted and looking at Romanoff with squinted eyes. Coulson knew his boss was searching her face for even the tiniest hint that she was tricking them. Apparently, he saw nothing, because after a few moments of silence, the pregnant pause ended with the director standing to his feet.

"I'm sorry, Miss Romanoff, but I can't accept your offer."

Coulson eyed Romanoff, gaging her reaction. "My offer? _My offer_?!" She was soon on her feet as well, and though she was shorter than Fury's 6'2", she seemed much taller in that moment. "It's hardly an offer so much as a plea! Would you like me to get down on my knees and beg you? Would you like me to stoop so low?!"

"Miss Romanoff, I would cool it if I were you," Fury said fiercely, taking a step closer as to seem overbearing. The tactic hardly worked, though; she seemed to take it in stride, taking another step towards the director so that they were nearly nose-to-nose.

"No, I'm sorry _Director_ Fury, I will not _cool it_! I am willing to give up everything to help you and your agency! Clint Barton could have easily killed me, and he strikes me as a man who is not easily swayed by the bat of eyelashes. If you trust him enough to send him on as high stake of a mission as to assassinate me, you should trust him enough to trust me!"

They were both yelling now, and all Coulson could do was sit on the edge of the room and watch.

"Why are you doing this, Miss Romanoff?" Fury questioned incredulously. "Why are you risking your life to help us? How am I supposed to know if this isn't just another one of your acts?"

"It's not a trick!" she nearly screamed. "I'm not doing this to save my own skin!"

"Then I ask again," Fury shouted, the vein on the side of his head twitching. "Why are you doing this?!"

"To protect the only precious thing I have left!"

Coulson was about to intervene when the door to the hallway opened quietly.

Natasha Romanoff's face changed from enraged to surprised to concerned in a matter of milliseconds. "Artemis, what are you doing here?"

Coulson never knew a human being could be so small. Of course, she wasn't an infant, but had to be no older than ten. And even then, the top of her head barely came to the doorknob. She stood timidly as if she were about to bolt away any second and her eyes flashed between the three adults. "I heard shouting," she replied in a quiet voice, gazing cautiously at Director Fury.

Coulson's eyes drifted from Miss Romanoff to the small girl and back again. If he didn't know better, he would think the little girl (Artemis, apparently) was an miniature version of Natasha Romanoff. The same wild hair (though the Artemis' was a shade lighter), the same alabaster skin, and the same pouty lips.

"Why aren't you with Clint?" Romanoff tried again, still seeming to be in mild shock at the girl's sudden appearance. Romanoff's face was slightly flushed from her shouting match with Director Fury, which now seemed ages ago.

At the mention of Agent Barton, Artemis' small brows knitted together and her tiny nose wrinkled like she smelled something bad. "He's boring. All he does is read stuff in yellow folders. When I tried to take one and read it, too, he took it away." She pouted, looking up at Natasha pleadingly. Her gaze traveled behind the woman and she asked in a curious and innocent voice, "Who's that?"

"That's… That's Director Fury. He's the one who's going to find us a safe place to stay."

"Oh. What about him?" She looked over to Coulson, who was still seated on the edge of the room. Before Romanoff could speak a word, he found himself answering the question.

"I'm Agent Coulson. Director Fury's my boss." It was strange saying it in such simple terms. But if he was being honest with himself, he liked that explanation a lot better than '_SHIELD Agent Phil Coulson, Level Seven clearance, serves under the direction of Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD_'.

Artemis took a side-glance at the tall, brooding director who, surprisingly, hadn't intervened yet. The little girl bit her lip and looked back at Coulson. "Your boss is kind of scary."

Her frankness would have been funny if the situation wasn't so tense.

"Um, Arty, listen," Romanoff broke the awkward silence following the girl's observation in a much gentler tone than she had been using previously and crouched down in front of the girl. "Why doesn't Agent Coulson take you back to Clint, okay?"

The girl obviously hesitated, shifting subtly from one foot to the other, clasping her small hands in front of her bright purple sweater. Her hair looked like it had been cut maybe once in her life, orange curls falling unceremoniously past her shoulders to the middle of her back. Her bright curious eyes did a once over of Fury again, asking in what she probably thought was a whisper, "Is he gonna yell at you again?" Needless to say, everyone in the room heard it.

Romanoff chuckled at the question, reaching up to tuck a flyaway curl behind the small girl's ear. "No, Arty. I think we're done yelling." She craned her long neck to look back at Director Fury with a certain look in her eye. Coulson marveled at the amount of time it took the woman to go from delicate to authoritative.

Fury almost seemed to shirk a bit under her gaze, pushed into a metaphorical corner. Sighing, he motioned to Coulson. "Take her back, Coulson."

A bit surprised by the turn of events, Agent Coulson stood from his rather uncomfortable plastic chair and walked over to the girl. As Romanoff stood up from her crouch, she made eye contact with Coulson, many unsaid words passing between them. He wasn't sure why Romanoff seemed to trust him, but for whatever reason, she did. He tried to see himself as a trustful person, someone that people can come to for refuge or advice or help. Perhaps he was right.

The two walked in silence for a few moments, the small girl looking back once or twice at the door they had just exited. Coulson pretended he didn't see her look up at him from his peripheral vision. Once they rounded the first corner in the hallway, the girl spoke in a very matter-of-fact voice. "I'm Artemis Romanoff. I'm Natasha's sister. Did you know that?"

The corners of Coulson's lips twitched. "Yes, I did actually." He looked down at her to see her almost pouting, apparently put out that she didn't get the upper hand on him.

She was persistent, though, and tried again. "I'm eight. Did you know that?"

"That one, I didn't know," he answered honestly as they turned another corner.

"Well, now that you know my name and how old I am, its only fair you tell me the same for you." She was diplomatic, Coulson would give her that.

"Phil Coulson, 39."

"Is 'Phil' short for something?"

How many questions was she going to ask? He humored her all the same, answering her inquiries. "No, its just Phil."

Artemis looked up at him quizzically, her brows furrowed. "I don't believe you," she told him bluntly, crossing her arms in such a way that she looked an exact replica of her older sister.

"That's your own choice, I suppose," Coulson replied evenly, though his small grin betrayed his aloof tone.

The girl who walked next to him raised her chin and stuck her nose in the air in a very proud manner. "I'll just have to figure it out for myself, I guess. I'm very good at figuring things out."

Coulson would look back at this small exchange for years to come. He would silently refer to it as "the beginning". As Coulson would watch the small eight-year-old grow into a beautiful young woman who enjoyed the simple things in life like thick books and good music and delicious food. And every time she would raise her chin and stick her nose in the air and say something witty and maybe a little bit snobbish, Coulson saw that small, innocent, curious eight year old with her purple sweater and wild fiery hair, saying, "I'm very good at figuring things out."

And she was. But, as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat.

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**AN: So this was the prologue! The rest of the story will follow _The Avengers_ film. I'll post the next chapter once I get at least 5 reviews, only because I don't want to post it and then it turns out no one is reading it. So please let me know what you think! Oh, and of course I don't own anything that has to do with The Avengers, I only own Arty!(:  
**


	2. Chapter 2: The Mighty Fall

There were very few things Artemis Romanoff knew for certain in this crazy world. Things were very rarely black and white, true facts, hands-down for sure. You think we really landed on the moon in 1967? Ha, that's cute. Facebook is just a cool website to connect with your friend in Thailand, right? Yeah, the government pretty much now has your autobiography. But one thing Artemis did know for certain was that there's some pretty weird stuff out there in the universe, and she's seen some of it first hand. Aliens. Super villains. Weird space stuff. Thanks to her involvement (or rather, her sister's involvement) with the government agency SHIELD, she's now aware of all of those things and more.

Imagine her surprise when the alarm began blaring over the intercoms because the Tesseract was, as Dr. Selvig so delicately put it, _misbehaving_.

Yeah, she wasn't very surprised at all.

Director Fury turned to Clint Barton as they walked towards the Tesseract, his voice stern. "I gave you this detail so you could keep a close eye on things."

"Well, I see better from a distance," Clint replied flatly, taking long strides towards the Tesseract's platform.

"Besides," supplied Artemis, a little out of breath from trying to keep in stride with the two men. She was not blessed with long legs. "It's probably just space mojo. SHIELD deals with weird stuff all the time, right?"

"We've never seen anything like this before," Fury replied without looking in the teenager's direction. _Rude_. "Have you seen anything that might set this thing off?"

The three of them stepped onto the platform where the blue cube was being held securely by something that looked distinctly like a giant arc reactor. Artemis strolled over to the Tesseract so that it was right in front of her, an unnatural blue light illuminating her face, turning her red hair almost lilac. It was strange, she thought to herself as her eyes gazed into the cube, scrutinizing it. SHIELD had been working on the Tesseract project for over a year, poking the thing with silver prongs, analyzing it with scientific instruments that she didn't even know existed until a few months ago, and watching it like it might come forth with some sort of infinite wisdom. And yet, SHIELD knew just about diddlysquat about the cube, besides that it gave off very low levels of gamma radiation. And the only reason that _she knew_ that they knew close to nothing about the Tesseract was because she maybe, might have, sort of sneaked a peek at some very super classified flies that Coulson had left on his car's dashboard when he went inside a gas station mart to get a cup of coffee.

And he thought she had been asleep. Ha. It's called acting, Phil.

"No one's come or gone," Artemis heard Clint say from behind her. "And Selvig's clean. No contacts, No IMs"

"He's a jerk, though," she said, still staring into the cube. She narrowed her eyes an brought her finger up close to the Tesseract with the intent to poke it. Her hand jerked back suddenly as the glowing cube send an icy burn down her finger. Checking her finger and hand over, she turned back towards the two men standing behind her. "I get a bad vibe from him."

Fury glared at her with his one eye. "Miss Romanoff, please remind me why you are here."

"First of all, ouch. That cut deep, Director. Secondly, to answer your question, I'm here to give Agent Barton some company. Keep him on his toes." She walked over to them, abandoning her attention on the cube. "I even tried engaging him in a poker game yesterday," she pointed out, jabbing a thumb in Clint's direction, "but he refused to play. _He_ says it was because he needed to keep on eye on the cube but, between you and me," she leaned in towards the brooding director dramatically and whispered very loudly, "I think he was scared he was gonna loose all his jellybeans."

"_Anyway_," Clint refocused the conversation, pulling Artemis a safe distance away from the Tesseract. Her noise of annoyance was ignored. "If there _was_ any tampering, sir, it wasn't from this end."

Fury looked away from the Tesseract and to Clint, obviously waiting for an explanation. "_At this end_?"

Clint looked at his boss like the answer was obvious, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah. The cube is a doorway to the other end of space, right?" The blue glowing cube gave a sort of sputter. "Doors open from both sides."

Artemis smiled up at him, nudging him with her elbow. "Wow, look who read the folder." Her smile suddenly dropped as she gave Fury a wary glance. "Not that I, uhh – not that I knew there was a folder on the Tesseract. And, umm, not that I read it, of course."

The way Fury and Clint eyed her, she knew her fib was hardly convincing.

Fury turned to her fully, his long black coat causing him to look even more menacing. His one good eye glared at her like the was a small child who knocked over a vase. As Artemis tried to shrink behind Clint, she wondered if _Fury_ was his real last name, or if people just called him that because, sometimes, he was scary. "Miss Romanoff, how many times do I have to tell you, stop reading classified fil—"

Director Fury's reprimand ceased as the glowing blue Tesseract crackled loudly, blue light seeming to slip off of it and into the air. Artemis' felt her eyebrows raise as her eyes widened. This didn't look like it would end well. As the Tesseract gave off a small sort of explosion, Clint pushed the ginger further behind him, placing himself between her and the glowing cube. Her curiosity was too strong to be stomped out, though, and she peered around him, on her toes. She had to see this.

The room began to rumble and shake, and if she didn't know better, she would have guessed they were having an earthquake. Unfortunately, she did know better as she watched the Tesseract's blue energy burst from its cube form and into the surrounding area. The humming and crackling sound it was emanating became almost unbearable, the unnatural cerulean, flowing energy swirling around it's base like a spiral galaxy. In the back of her mind, Artemis wondered if this is what it looked like when stars were born.

All of the built up energy suddenly burst from the center of the cube like a laser beam, causing Artemis to give a small yelp as she jumped in surprise. She felt Clint reached back and slip a large hand in hers, squeezing it gently. The Tesseract's energy blasted a beam to the other side of the large facility, creating what looked like a portal at the end of the room. Artemis raised herself on her toes, her lips coming close to Clint's ear. Blue light reflected in her wide brown eyes as she whispered the question everyone was thinking. "What's going on?"

His whispered reply hardly soothe her nerves. "I don't know."

The room was abruptly bathed in sapphire light as the portal exploded, wisps of twinkling blue energy traveling throughout the room in waves. Artemis ducked behind Clint, shielding her face from the harsh light.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. She slowly stood from her crouching position, wiping red curls from her now sweaty face. She took a few cautious steps out from behind Clint, thankful that her sneakers didn't squeak against the metal floor. However, her attempt at stealth was in vain as she gasped when her eyes landed on the spot where the portal had just been.

On the platform opposite the Tesseract, cloaked in steam and smoke, stood a man.

Artemis' speedy assessment was that he was a strange, disheveled, psycho-monster of a man. That spear-thingy he had in his hand looked downright wicked, and not in a super cool way. He was all green and black and leather, slicked hair flicking out at the ends. He stood on the platform like he owned it, a sickly sweet smile quickly growing on his pointed face. His chest was rising and falling heavily, lean muscles visible under his armor.

Artemis was so focused on the new arrival that she jumped in surprise when the thick silence was broken by Fury's booming voice. "Sir, please put down the spear."

Artemis knew she should have seen this coming. She had lived with SHIELD long enough to realized that some day, she may or may not die as an innocent bystander of some global security threat. She had come to accept that fact. She had prepared herself, mentally, because it just came with the lifestyle. She lived in a world where it's normal for a billionaire in a metal suit to go flying all over the world, or a World War II hero to go from Capsicle to de-thawed in the 21st century, or a deity to come barreling out of the sky uninvited. She was prepared. She was cool. She was collected. And yet, as some sort of laser came shooting out of said psycho-monster of a man's wicked spear, and as he leaped onto SHIELD agents and stabbed them or threw knives at them, and as bullets hit him with apparently no affect, Artemis found just enough oxygen to scream the only words racing through her mind. "_HOLY SHIT!_"

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**AN: Ahhhhhh cliffhanger! Don't hate me for it! I hope everyone liked it! Also, sorry for any errors you found. I proofread it but I might have missed something - I don't have a beta. I figured I wouldn't keep you guys waiting so I posted the next chapter even though I only got four reviews. So please: REVIEW!:) It seriously makes my day and it helps me write better, because I know what you guys like and don't like. So, yeah, REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!**

**-Z**


	3. Chapter 3: End of The World

**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated sooner! I went on vacation and then I had to take my mom to the doctor. But I'm back, and definitely not dead!** **Also, I might not have said this yet, but I do not own anything you recognize from the Marvel universe. I only own Artemis!**

**Read on!**

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People were dying or getting injured at an alarming rate. Artemis didn't realized someone have shoved her until she felt her ankle bend in the wrong direction as she crumpled to the ground and a laser beam nearly sliced her head off. She staggered to a standing position, bracing herself on a stainless steel lab table. She gasped as she put weight on her left ankle, her knuckles turning white at she gripped the edge of the table. Yeah, that was probably gonna be bruised in the morning.

A scary thought entered her mind. _If she lived to see tomorrow_.

Disoriented and terrified, Artemis looked around her, assessing the situation. Director Fury was crumpled at the foot of the Tesseract's platform; Dr. Selvig cowered behind one of the many desks that filled the large room; Clint was just beginning to stand after hitting a wall. There was only one unnamed SHIELD agent who wasn't dead or dying, crouching next to Dr. Selvig. Artemis was hit with reality like a ton of bricks: they were the only ones left.

Lights flickered above her, showering the room with sparks. She was pretty sure some really expensive lab equipment was on fire somewhere behind her. In the back of her mind, she hoped Selvig's insurance would pay for that.

Everything had happened so fast. Yet when she saw the newcomer, in all his green and leather and slicked-back-hair glory, lunge towards Clint Barton, if was like watching it in slow motion. "You have heart," the man said, smirking at the archer. When the spear came in contact with Clint's chest, and his eyes glowed with the same unnatural blue as the Tesseract, Artemis was pretty sure she had shouted something obscene. By the way the homicidal maniac was glaring at her, she knew that she probably shouldn't have.

Before she could even think about running, a large hand wrapped around her throat and lifted her off of the floor, her sneakers just brushing the cement. Cerulean eyes glowered at her as her own small hands instinctively reached up, trying to pry the man's larger, icy one away from her neck. His sharp, sweaty face was mere inches from her own, and she could clearly see the dark, sleepless circles around his eyes and the crazed look in his unnaturally blue eyes. Atremis' eyes began to water as struggled take a breath. With his free hand, the man reached his spear out and placed it on the unnamed SHIELD agent's chest that had lunged towards them. The SHIELD agent immediately backed off, clasping his hands behind his back, his eyes turning from a dull brown to a bright blue. The visitor's eyes searched Artemis' face, which she was sure was turning blue by now as she attempted to suck in choked breaths, and a sickly grin spread on his face. He looked like he was about to say something to her, but his eyes quickly snapped to gaze at something behind her. "Please don't. I still need that."

"You can put the girl down. This doesn't have to get any messier." She had forgotten that anyone else was in the facillity other than herself and the man who was actively choking her; she was a bit preoccupied.

"Of course it does," the man insisted, looking back at the teenager he had by the throat. "I've come to far for anything else." Artemis' pleading look apparently went unnoticed as the man continued. "I am Loki of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose."

If Artemis could inhale, she would have gasped. Out of the corner of her watering eyes, Artemis spotted Dr. Selvig crawling out from under one of the lab tables, taking the words right out of her mouth. "Loki, brother of Thor."

Loki's eyes narrowed, and though his eyes were still trained on Artemis, he wasn't really _looking_ at her anymore. She definitely wasn't prepared when Loki suddenly released his hold on her throat. Her legs unable to hold her weight from lack of oxygen she fell to the floor in a heap of gasping breaths and tangled red hair. Unwaning hot tears slipped down her face as the newly found oxygen burned her lungs, and when she tried to get on her hands and knees, pain shot up her leg - _damned ankle!_

A surprisingly gentle hand was placed on her back and she looked up through the curtain of curly hair in her face to see Director Fury kneeled down next to her, giving her a look that could almost be called concern. Artemis nodded her head once, her ability to inhale and exhale improving by the second. She left herself get pulled up off of the ground by Fury, who then turned back to Loki. "We have no quarrel with your people."

Loki replied in a tone one might use to explain something to a small child. "An ant has no quarrel with a boot."

Artemis looked at Loki wide-eyed. This dude was high on crazy.

"Are you planning to step on us?" Fury questioned, setting Artemis down on the Tesseract's platform and tinting his head like he was confused. Artemis had known him long enough to know that he was most definitely not confused. It was an interrogation tactic; make the enemy give up their plan. If they think you're unsure of what they plan to do, they'll be too caught up in their own pride to realize that, by sharing their _magnificent, ingenious, tactical_ plan with you, _they're literally sharing their plan with you_. The bad guy figures, hey, they'll never make it out alive, might as well tell them how awesome my evil plan is. Except, the good guys usually get out alive.

Artemis' breathing had quieted; she was no longer gasping for air and she reached up to wipe away the stray tears on her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater. She watched Loki as he continued his monologue. "I come with glad tidings," he explained almost cheerfully as he stalked towards Selvig, who simply starred at him in awe. "Of a world made free."

Fury's eye narrowed suspiciously. "Free from what?"

Loki's long face went blank, the shadows under his eyes elongating. "Freedom. Freedom is life's great lie. Once you accept that, in you heart…" He suddenly rounded on Selvig, placing the tip of his spear against the scientist's heart. "You will know peace."

"You say peace, I kinda think you mean the other thing."

Artemis finally found enough air to form words, and though her voice was raspy, she seemed to be back to her normal self. "Yeah, like death. Or destruction. Maybe even obliteration. Take your pick."

Loki's eyes found hers again, and she could practically see the fire beneath them. "Do you think you are humerous, you foolish little girl?"

Her shrug was noncommittal. "I think I'm stating the flaws in your plan. I also think you didn't get enough hugs as a child." _  
_

She was sure Loki was about to lunge for her when a familiar somebody stepped in between the angry Norse god and the snarky teenager. Clint Barton, his eyes shining blue, walked swiftly to Loki's side. "Sir, Director Fury and Artemis are stalling. This place is about to blow and drop a hundred feet of rock on us. They mean to bury us."

Fury smirked smugly. "Like the pharos of old."

"Wait, _what_?" Artemis craned her neck, looked straight up to the domed ceiling overhead. Sure enough, the Tesseract's glowing blue energy was swirling above them, crackling and spitting out sapphire sparks. "Hold the freaking phone, I didn't sign up for this!" She tugged on the end of Fury's trench coat. He ignored her, of course.

Dr. Selvig rushed to one of the computers _not_ destroyed by Loki's arrival, clicking keys and pushing buttons. "He's right. The portal is collapsing in on itself—"

"_Excuse me?!_" Artemis hoped she hadn't heard him right.

"—We've got maybe two minutes before this goes critical."

Loki turned to possessed Clint. "Well then."

Suddenly, a gunshot rang throughout the room. Artemis screamed as Director Fury fell next to her.

She hadn't seen that one coming.

Thankfully, Loki and his entourage hadn't given her another look as they grabbed the silver case the Tesseract was in. Artemis heard them leave the room as her eyes remained on Fury. Was he dead? _Holy shit, was he dead?_ It felt like Loki was strangling her again, except she was pretty sure she was going into shock. Are people even aware that they're going into shock when it's actually happening? Her mouth began to chant "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," over and over again, some of her hair sticking to her face. It felt like centuries she sat there, staring at nothing. The crackling and glowing raw energy above her was going to explode soon. She would be buried under tons and tons of cement. Years from now, people would come looking for her body, sifting through rock like the archeological digs in Egypt. They would find her crushed bones, hidden under a millennia of rock and decay.

_Like the pharos of old_.

"Miss Romanoff!"

Artemis screamed for the umpteenth time that night as the body next to her spoke in a deep voice. God, she had forgotten about Director Fury, shot and bleeding next to her. "Y-Yes Director?"

"I need you to contact Agent Hill on the walkie," he held out his walkie-talkie to her. "Tell her Barton has turned and is with Loki. She needs to stop them." His tough face grimaced as he pressed his hand to his wound.

Slowly, she reached out and took the device. "Uhh, yeah. Okay." Artemis shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Static came on as she pressed the button. "Agent Hill, this, uhh, this is Artemis Romanoff." No response. She wiped her free hand on her jeans, getting rid of the sweat. "Listen, Clint – uhh, _Barton_ is possessed by this scary looking psycho dude in leather named Loki. Anyway, they have the Tesseract. You need to—" She stopped short when the sound of gunshots replied to her from the walkie talkie. Artemis turned to Fury, who had managed to get to his feet. "That doesn't sound good." A crumbling noise sounded from above her. "Neither does that."

Fury quickly hauled her from the floor, his arm slipping under hers. She tried to limp from the large room without crying out every time she put weight on her left ankle to no avail. "What's wrong with your ankle, Romanoff?" Fury asked her as they reached the high speed elevator, which was speeding them to the first floor of the building.

"Umm, I think it's sprained, maybe." Artemis knew she didn't sound sure of herself at all as she stood on her right leg and leaned against the elevator walls. "Why are you asking if I'm okay? You just got shot! We almost died! I thought you _were_ dead!"

Fury helped her hop out of the elevator and towards the waiting military truck. "It's happens," he replied to her, like he was talking about his hair getting grey or something.

Director Fury handed her off to an agent once they reached the truck, yelling something about a broken ankle so he could be heard over the loud blades of the helicopter a few feet away. Artemis watched Fury rush towards the helicopter, holding a hand to his side. She looked up as someone began to strap her into a seat, and she had never been so happy to see Phil Coulson in all her life.

Everything after that was a blur to Artemis. She could hear Phil asking her simple questions like _"what day were you born"_, _"what's you sister's name?"_, _"what's eight times three?"_. Of course she knew the answers. Why was Phil asking her stupid questions? Maybe it was because when she tried to reply, she seemed to have no control of her mouth, blubbering incoherent sounds or saying absurd things like "Phil, you tie looks silly. Why do you wear silly ties?" and then reaching out to straighten it. She felt her hands become incased in his two big calloused ones, and heard him say something about going into shock, and her brown eyes met his _blue blue blue_ ones. His eyebrows wrinkled and two lined appeared in between them. Phil looked sad. Why did Phil look sad?

"Arty, you're going to go to sleep, okay?"

"But Phil," she began, swaying as the car hit a bump. "I'm not tired."

He let go of her hands and moved a piece of her hair out of her face. She pushed her cheek into his rough hand as soon fingers had brushed her skin. Artemis hadn't realized that her face was burning up until she felt how cold his hand was. Distracted by the soothing way Phil's cold skin felt on her face, she didn't feel the prick of a needle injecting a sedative into her arm. All she knew what that her eyelids felt really heavy all of a sudden as she leaned closer to Phil Coulson. Artemis' mind became blank, her arms felt like she was carrying twenty grocery bags. The last thing she remembered was Phil asking someone, "What do we do now?"

It was the best sleep Artemis had in weeks.

* * *

**AN: Yay, another chapter down! Hopefully you guys will review, because I want to know what you guys think! I don't want to be posting this if no one is reading it, you know? Anyway, tell me what you think, and thank you to everyone who _has_ reviewed : IBeliveSherlock, Nielelien10, IJustWannaBeAHero, and TombSphynxAna ! Next chapter should come soon! (:**

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	4. Chapter 4: This Is What Makes Us Girls

**AN: All things _italicized_ are either things spoken in Russian or thoughts. PS: I own nothing ****related to Marvel's Avengers, I'm only borrowing them. I only own Artemis!**

* * *

Getting tied to a chair and interrogated was not on Natasha's list of fun things to do. Of course, neither was playing the pretty little helpless girl, but it came with the territory.

No, going under cover was never enjoyable. The only time it _was_ fun was when she had gotten Happy Hogan, Stark's now head of security, in a headlock. He definitely paid for that "_booty boot camp"_ comment in bruises.

But the building she now occupied, along with three others, was dinghy and looked like it might fall part any second, the starry night sky visible through several holes in the ceiling. They had set up shop on a loft overlooking a gaping hole to the bottom floor three stories down. She was surprised that the floorboards hadn't given out yet, though they creaked and groaned with every step the men took. Natasha had already analyzed the space around her, noting the objects she could use as a weapon. When her eyes had landed on the (presumably stolen) paintings that were now behind her, she struggled not to think of her sister. Arty had always been really interested in art and music and all things right brain, unlike Natasha, who was all about angles and statistics and calculating the amount of force it would take to break the chair she was tied to and use it's legs to knock these men unconscious. But Fury had told her how important this mission was, so she played the good girl, her wrists were tied to a chair, her favorite stockings ripped, and her cheek stinging with the harsh slap she just received. She feigned pain, turning her face into her shoulder and letting out a small whimper.

"_This is not how I wanted this evening to go,_" explained the elderly general in his natural Russian. His hands were clasped behind his back and he openly stared at her exposed neck and cleavage like a lion eyeing its prey. Natasha fought the urge to do something _really not good_ and compromise the whole mission.

She did curled her lip though, sneering with venom. Replying in smooth Russian, she brusquely replied, "_I know how you wanted this evening to go._" She eyed him up and down, along with the two men flanking him. "_Believe me, this is better_."

The general looked amused at her comment, motioning for one henchman towards her. "_Who are you working for? Lermentov, yes?_"

Natasha inhaled quickly as the man next to her tilted her chair back over the gaping hole, a straight drop in which the destination was a cement floor. She knew they wouldn't let her take the plunge just yet, and her eyes took on a pleading look as she gazed at the man above her, attempting to appeal to his good nature. Of course, men like these often were void of good nature. Her toes only skimmed the floor, grappling for purchase as her stockings slid over the wood. She was sure she looked terrified. That was the goal, after all.

The general continued his monologue as he watched her struggle, hands deep in his pockets. "_Does he think we have to go through him to move our cargo?_"

Now that was something. Needing more information and hoping to cajole an answer out of him, the redhead looked back and forth between the men, knowing her obsequious manner would win her the answers she needed. "_I thought General Solohob is in charge of the export business." _ She already knew that wasn't true. Thankfully, the rickety wooden chair she was tied to was sat back down on all fours.

"_Solohob!_" The general practically spat out the name like it was poisonous. "_A bagman, a front." _His large frame turned back around to face her and he smiled. "_Your outdated information betrays you_." The old man walked right up to her and she tried to shrink back. "_The famous Black Widow…"_ He trailed off, no doubt thinking wanton thoughts as his eyes gazed down at her rapidly rising and falling chest. He turned around slowly and strolled towards a table in the corner. "_… and she turns out to be simply another pretty face."_

"_You really think I'm pretty?_" The question was almost coy. Natasha hated it. Hated it, hated it, hated it. She could snap this man's neck with a spoon and a flat iron, but here she was, tied to a chair, asking if a sick, revolting old man if he really thought she was pretty. God, she hated undercover.

The other man was back at her side again, coercing her jaw apart and her mouth open with calloused, sausage-like fingers that dug into her cheekbones. The old general spoke from the table, his back to them. "_Tell Lermentov we don't need him to move the tanks. Tell him he is out. Although…"_ Natasha heard a sound of a spring opening and closing and metal scraping on metal. Pliers. They wanted to take out her tongue. She suppressed and eye-roll. How unoriginal. The old man suddenly spoke in English, though his accent was heavy. "…You may have to write it down."

She was about to knee the man in front of her in the groin when a cellphone rang.

The man who had been standing off to the side this whole time looked down, his brows furrowed. Reached into his pocket, he pulled out a small flip-phone, answering it in Russian. After a few seconds, the man slowly took the phone away from his ear and looked toward the general. "_It's for her."_

The general threw the pliers down on the table in frustration, snatching the phone away. He began pacing as he spoke. "_You listen carefully—"_ He stopped abruptly like he had been interrupted. Stopping his pacing, his wide eyes glanced towards the ceiling and then behind him. Gulping quite audibly, the general slowly handed the phone to Natasha, who held it in place with her shoulder.

Coulson's voce was low when he spoke to her. "We need you to come in."

Dammit, Coulson. "Are you kidding? I'm working!"

Coulson replied without delay. "This takes precedence."

Natasha huffed into the phone. "I'm in the middle of an interrogation. This moron is giving me everything." At the general's denial of giving away everything, she raised a perfect brow. Idiots. Turning her attention back to the conversation, she continued. "Look you can't pull me out of this right now—"

"—Natasha," Coulson broke off and obviously hesitated. That caught her attention. Her thoughts immediately went to her little sister. If Coulson let something happen to her, Natasha would kill these morons and then kill the agent. She was about to ask about Arty when Coulson spoke in a low and quiet voice, like he didn't want anyone else to hear. "…Barton's been compromised."

Nothing had prepared her for that

Her face became incisive and her annoyed demeanor vanished. "Let me put you on hold," she suggested in a dangerous tone, motioning for one of the men to take the phone. The general cautiously reached out, but before he could grasp it, he crumpled in pain as Natasha slammed her foot into his knee. It didn't take long for the other two men to spring to action, but the Black Widow was lithe and quick, and soon stood, still tied to the chair. She used the piece of furniture to her advantage, swinging her body to his the man behind her. Her moved were meticulous, her one goal to defeat the threat. She soon freed herself from the wooden chair as she slammed into one of the henchmen. She used the splintered legs to jab the assailants in the gut and back, inhibiting them to fight back any longer. Two down, one to go. Grabbing a chain hanging from the ceiling, she focused in on the general who gazed on her with true fear. Making quick work of wrapping it around his ankle, with one last look, she pushed him over the edge of the loft and soon heard a sickening _crack_ as his ankle broke and his leg most likely dislocated.

Some might call her actions intrepid. She called it doing her job.

Picking up the phone and her heels from the ground, she walked towards the exit. "Where's Barton now?" she inquired of Coulson, getting straight to business.

"We don't know."

"But he's alive?"

Coulson's reply didn't exactly soothe her nerves. "We think so."

"And Artemis?"

She heard Coulson sigh on the other end of the line. "She's… She's fine."

Natasha stopped her stride towards the exit, lowing her voice. "That doesn't sound very reassuring, Coulson."

She heard Coulson hesitate. "She… She's having nightmares. And has a broken ankle."

Natasha stopped walking, a hand running through her short curls. "God dammit, Coulson!"

"I swear to God, if I could have stopped it, I would have." He sighed again, and Natasha knew he was beating himself up over this. "She's pretty torn up about Barton. Of course, every time I ask if she's okay, she'll either ignore me or brush off the question. You two are definitely related. Both stubborn as hell."

"I'll talk to her when I get there," she assured him and began her stride again, readjusting the cellphone against her ear. "What happened to Barton, exactly?"

"We'll brief you on everything when you get back," Coulson replied swiftly, getting to the point of his phone call. "But first, we need you to talk to the big guy."

Natasha scoffed. "Coulson, you know that Stark trusts me just about as far as he can throw me."

"Oh, I've got Stark. Artemis is coming with me to retrieve him. You get the _big guy_."

Natasha stopped walking, finally understanding what Coulson was ordering her to do. Looking around, she sighed, cursing under her breath in Russian, rubbing her free hand over her face.

She just couldn't get a break.

* * *

**AN: Okay, another one down! I know this is really short, and doesn't have really any Artemis, but it's just a filler. The next chapter is twice as long as this one, about 4k words! Something to look forward to!(: I hope Natasha wasn't too OOC; she's slightly difficult to write. Anyway, PLEASE review! I want to know what people are thinking! I appreciate everyone who has read this so far, as well! (: PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE REVIEW!**

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	5. She Came In Through The Bathroom Window

_**5. She Came In Through The Bathroom Window**_

* * *

It had been three days since Loki had arrived. Three days since that SHIELD research facility almost came crashing down on her in piles of rock and rubble. For three days, she'd been plagued with vivid nightmares every time she closed her eyes. Loki choking her, cutting off the oxygen to her lungs and brain and heart until she slowly suffocated. The cold metal of Loki's spear touching her skin, possessing her to do his bidding. A flash of bright blue eyes before Clint Barton, the best friend she's ever had, releases an arrow that strikes her in the chest, his eyes cold and hard as he ignores her cries and screams of "_Clint, it's me! It's Arty! Please, Clint! It's me!_"

The first night Artemis woke up screaming and thrashing, Phil Coulson was next to her in a matter of minutes, the door to her Helicarrier room sliding open. Clad in his flannel pajama pants and grey t-shirt, he pulled her close as she soaked his shirt with hot, unyielding tears. She had held onto Phil for dear life, her one lifeline to sanity. When she sunk below the water, Phil was always there to pull her back up. He had sat there on the edge of her bed, his embrace steadfast and his voice smooth as Artemis bunched up his t-shirt in her fists, sobbing out her worries and fears.

"_Ph-Phil, Clint's gone! He's – He's gone!"_

"_We're going to get him back, Artemis. I promise."_

"_I-I'm so scared, Phil! I don't kn-know what to do! What if Loki comes after – after me?! I'm just so sc-scared!"_

"_Loki won't get to you, Arty. Natasha won't let that happen. _I _won't let that happen." Phil pulled her closer and rubbed her back. "Not on my watch." _

Neither of them had mentioned their exchange afterwards, which Artemis was thankful for. She didn't need all of SHIELD knowing that her encounter with the god of mischief had gotten to her. She was supposed to be strong and brave and let nothing get under her skin; she was related to the infamous Black Widow, after all. She endeavored to project that impression onto the people around her, pretending it didn't hurt when she got a paper cut or when she overheard the young SHIELD interns gossiping about her. She knew she didn't fool most people. And now that she was hardly sleeping because of night terrors, the dark circles under her eyes and her uncombed fiery hair, not to mention the fleece pajama pants she insisted on wearing throughout the Helicarrier, were clear signs of her inability to, as the saying goes, get her shit together.

So when Phil provided a chance to get away from the Helicarrier and wandering eyes, she immediately hopped on the opportunity.

He seemingly failed to mention where exactly they were going.

* * *

Artemis looked at her reflection in the elevator walls. She had traded her fleece pajama pants for a pair of dark-wash jeans, which contrasted with her light pastel green sweater. Her hair was more disheveled than usual, having tried to untangle it in a rush. She only had on her right shoe (her favorite pair of white _Chuck Taylor All Stars_ Natasha had gotten her for her birthday) while her left foot was incased in a medical boot. (Apparently, she actually _had_ broken her ankle during the whole Loki ordeal. Thanks to whatever magic drugs SHIELD had ahold of, the healing process was going much quicker than normal.)

She glanced over at the quiet agent next to her in the mirrored walls, still a bit grumpy towards him for not warning her of their destination sooner. Looking up at the numbers above the door that an arrow passed every time they passed a floor, she spoke above the soft jazz that apparently passed for elevator music. "Are you going to get me arrested?"

The someone next to her sighed deeply. "No, Artemis, you are not going to get arrested."

"Are you sure? Are you _positive_?"

Phil Coulson looked away from his cellphone, raising his eyebrows at her. "Of course I'm sure. You have diplomatic immunity in twenty three countries."

"Well, because – wait, are you serious?"

"No."

Artemis crossed her arms and turned to Phil, a scowl on her face. "You're a royal jerk, Phil Coulson. First, you don't tell me that we're going to meet probably the most famous man in the world until we get to his house, then you hack his security system, _and then_ you lie to me. Hey, look at me when I'm scolding you!" She reached out and attempted to pluck the smart phone from his hand. He kept a hold of it, but did look up at her with the most uninterested expression ever. "At least pretend to feel bad," she suggested, glaring at him.

Phil looked up from his phone and gave her the most deadpan expression. "I have pity for you. It's on the inside."

Artemis rolled her eyes at Phil's response. "_Please_, Phyllis," she countered, using on of the many names he had for her favorite SHIELD agent, "Everyone knows your feeling gland was surgically removed out at birth."

"People don't have _feeling glands_, Artemis."

The girl opened her mouth to give Phil a snarky reply, but instead let out a surprised yelp as the elevator suddenly stopped moving. The abrupt halt caused her to knock into Phil, who caught her around the middle to keep her from falling. Artemis huffed a ginger curl out of her face, looking up at the numbers above the door. "Why did we stop?"

Phil set her upright, still holding her arm as she wobbled in her medical boot. "I'm not sure," he replied swiftly and began typing something on his smart phone. Those two lines appeared in between his eyebrows as they came together in the middle, furrowed as he concentrated on something on his phone.

Artemis struggled to walk normally in her one shoe and medical boot, but ended up waddling over to the numbered buttons on one side of the sliding doors, going from B22 to 124. Though she knew it wouldn't work, she pressed the 124 button anyway, willing the lift to start it upward journey yet again. She glanced up at the smaller numbers above the door, the arrow stuck on 108. Artemis glared at the buttons like it was their fault for the lift to have suddenly stopped. She hit the 124 continuously with vigor. "I swear to God," she muttered under her breath, "If I end up stuck in an elevator of Stark Tower, I'm gonna be _pissed_." After about a minute, she felt a jolt and exclaimed in excitement as she stepped back and watched the arrow begin to move from 108 to 109 to 110, and so on. "Ha! And you always said hitting things never fixed them. Guess who's the right one this time, Philly—" she stopped short when she turned to see Phil with his cell phone to his ear and she sucked in the rest of her sentence like a vacuum sucking up cat hair. Artemis had learned from the age of nine that when Phil Coulson was on the phone, you didn't interrupt him, _ever_. If you did, it would have monumental consequences.

Artemis bit her lip as she watched Phil, who was scowling at the numbers above the sliding door. The ringing on the other end could barely be heard over the quiet new age jazz playing over some hidden speakers. She stepped close, twirling a strand of hair around her finger subconsciously as she strained to hear the other side of the phone call. She slinked behind him and stood on his other side, leaning close to the phone at his ear.

She heard a smooth accented voice on the other end, slightly altered with an electronic timbre. "Agent Coulson, Mr. Stark wishes not to be disturbed at this moment."

"JARVIS, I overrode your controls. Patch him in."

There was just dial tone for a few seconds as Artemis leaned in closer. Then, the noise of the phone being answered sounded through the receiver. Before anyone could speak on the other side, Phil said, "Stark, we need to talk."

"You've reached the life-model decoy of Tony Stark," someone said, and in the background, laughter could be heard. "Please leave a message."

"This is urgent," Phil insisted, rolling his eyes.

"Then leave it urgently."

The elevator stopped, the door slid open, and Artemis stared with wide eyes at the room that was revealed. It was huge, with a gleaming marble floor and the nighttime New York City skyline visible out of the opposite wall of glass. There was an insert into the floor in front of an enormous fireplace, and Artemis leaned around the doorway to get a better look, her eyes round and curious. She was hardly surprised to see the man, the myth, and the legend himself sitting on one of the low couches, holding a champagne glass. He motioned to Phil and said, "Security breach. It's on you."

"Mr. Stark," Phil greeted, taking his phone away from his ear in a bored fashion. He stepped out into the penthouse, and Artemis had to quickly slide out of the elevator as the doors began to close on her. She stopped right behind Phil, peering over the shoulder of his business suit.

The one and only Pepper Potts smiled from her place on the couch, inviting them further into the room. "Phil, Artemis! Come in!" She made standing from a low couch look extremely easy and her long, toned legs carried her gracefully towards them.

The woman hadn't changed much since Artemis had met her. Pepper Potts insisted that Artemis call her by her first name, which was a bit strange at first; she was the goddess of fortune five hundred company CEO's, let alone one of the most powerful women in the world. Apparently, her and Natasha had grown to be close friends while Natasha was working undercover as her secretary as Natalie Rushmore. After he Justin Hammer fiasco had been handled with, and she was no longer working for Stark Industries, Tasha had taken Artemis out to lunch with her and Pepper. At first, Artemis had been thoroughly star-struck, and when Pepper had extended her delicate hand to initiate a handshake, the teenager thought it might be more appropriate to kiss it.

Artemis was brought back to Earth when a miffed voice sounded from the couch. "_Phil?_"

"We can't stay," Phil informed Pepper with a polite smile.

Artemis stepped out from behind him and was greeted with a warm grin from the strawberry blonde. She was not prepared for the hug that Pepper came in for, and fumbled slightly. "Oh, um, okay, we can hug. Hello, Miss Potts – I mean, _Pepper_." She hugged the woman back, albeit a bit awkwardly.

"You remembered," Pepper pointed out the use of her first name, pulling away with a smile.

Then, the face of Stark Industries began to walk over to their little group. "Yeah, um, his first name is _Agent_," he insisted, pointing to Phil.

Pepper ignored his comment and stepped back into the room, allowing Phil and Artemis space. "Please come in – we're celebrating."

"Which is why he can't stay," the other individual in the room said through gritted teeth, his smile obviously forced. He stood next to Pepper, still holding a glass of champagne.

Tony Stark was shorter in real life, Artemis decided, although his hair gave him a good half an inch advantage. His precisely groomed facial hair looked just as perfect as it did on every single cover he did for _Forbes_, _Esquire_, and _GQ_ that she had stuffed in her room. Her eyed were drawn to the glowing circle of white light under his black thermal, keeping a bountiful amount of shrapnel from imbedding into his heart. His skin was tan, his eyes were bright, and his teeth were perfectly aligned.

Artemis caught herself staring when Tony Stark seem to finally realize she was there. "Whoa," he began, blinking twice at her and taking a step back, "Déjà vu. Am I the only one having a déjà vu moment?" He turned to Pepper beside him. "Are you having a déjà vu moment?" His eyes landed back on Artemis, scrutinizing her. "Have we met before? You remind me of someone. With the hair and the lips and everything." He have a halfhearted wave of his hand towards her face.

Pepper rolled her eyes and spoke to him like she had dealt with this kind of thing many times. "Tony, this is Artemis Romanoff." She motioned towards Artemis, who pulled on one of her curls self-consciously and gave a small two fingered solute. "Natasha's younger sister," she clarified at the blank look on Stark's face. "Natasha Romanoff? She worked for us last year as Natalie Rushmore?"

He pursed his lips until realization dawned on his face as he leaned back on his heels. "_Oh_. The woman with the who posed as your secretary and didn't let me join her super secret boy-band?"

"_Tony!_"

"Relax Pep, I was only joking. A little." He smirked and stuck his large hand towards Artemis, who stared at it like it was going to either bite her or become her saving grace. An elbow to her side compelled her out of her stupor, and she reached out her own small hand and shook his. His raised brow was enough to cause the rise in color to her cheeks. "Tony Stark, _very _nice to meet you."

She couldn't stop the words from coming out until it was too late. "Artemis Romanoff – I'm a _huge_ fan." Her grin turned to a grimac as she let go of his hand and wiped hers on her jeans, nervous sweat already building on them. _God, she was an idiot._

His smirk grew. "A huge fan, huh? You interested in quantum mechanics, kid? How about astrophysics?"

A look of mild horror overtook her face. "Uhh – um – no." She stuttered out her reply and mentally slapped herself. "I just, uhh… It's… You're _really_ famous." It was probably the lamest, most un-elegant answer she could have come up with. Her apparent lack of clear speech, along with her disheveled hair and the sweater-jeans duo she had going on, not to mention the hideous medical boot that made her left foot look giant – Tony Stark must thing she's a bag lady starting off early. She self-consciously tapped her medical book with the side of her one Chuck Taylor and tried to look anywhere but his eyes.

Phil cleared his throat next to her, and she made a mental note to thank him later for saving her from further embarrassment. "Now that introductions are done," he held out a black pad, the SHIELD insignia engraved on the covering, "SHIELD needs you to look this over as soon as possible."

Stark frowned at the pad like it was the bane of his existence. "I – I don't like being handed things."

"That's fine, because I _love_ to be handed things, so let's trade," Pepper suggested, holding her glass out to Phil, who took it and passed over the pad. She smiled sweetly at Stark as she plucked the champagne out of _his_ grasp and placed the pad in his hands, ignoring the eye roll he gave her.

Artemis watched the exchange with curious eyes, a small grin on her face. They already acted like an old married couple; why weren't they _actually_ married yet?

Stark stared at the pad in his grasp with distain. "Yeah, um, consulting hours are between eight and five every other Thursday."

"This isn't a consultation."

Artemis looked cautiously between the two men, wondering what their history was. It looked like Phil was resisting the urge to slap Stark on the back of the head.

"Is this about the Avengers?" Artemis' eyes snapped to Pepper as soon the question left her mouth. "Which I – I know nothing about."

Artemis had read snippets about SHIELD's plan to make a team of extraordinary individuals. Of course, these snippets had always been read over the shoulder of an agent or in classified files using her sister's access codes, which had been changed many times thanks to her meddling. She couldn't help it if she was nosy; Tasha always said she came out of the womb curious. Though she didn't know much about the Avengers Initiative, she did know who were the most likely candidates: her own sister, along with their long time best friend (and perhaps Natasha's boyfriend/something-or-other) Clint Barton; Tony Stark, or rather his pseudonym, Iron Man; a man with some serious anger issues and huge brain power; the most American man way past his time; a Norse god with hair far more luscious than hers who carried around a cleaver. These six delinquents were supposed to be brought together to somehow save the world, if it needed it.

Unfortunately, not many more opportunities had arisen for her to sneak another peek in a classified folder that sat in Phil's glove box while he was in the gas station and thought she was asleep, so that was the extent of her knowledge. Hence when Pepper brought up the subject, Artemis couldn't help but lean towards her in anticipation, hoping to gain some more information. She her eyes danced between Pepper and Stark as he took off the cover of the pad and began to walk towards one of the many workbenches in the room.

"Phhht. The Avengers Initiative was scraped, I thought." He turned back around to look at gaze at the group, his brows furrowed and a scowl on his face. "And I didn't even qualify!"

Pepper looked up to the ceiling, feigning innocence. "I didn't know that either."

Artemis tried to hide her grin, but somehow she couldn't stop it from spreading on her face as she watched the exchange.

Stark continued as he set the pad on his workbench. "Yeah, apparently I'm volatile. Self obsessed." He waved his hand in a careless way. "Don't play well with others."

Pepper smirked and winked at Artemis, who smiled back. "That, I did know."

"This isn't about personality profiles anymore," Phil clarified, still holding Pepper's champagne glass. Artemis raised an inquiring ginger brow in his direction, glancing between him and Tony Stark.

The billionaire brushed him off. "Whatever. Miss Potts, got a sec?"

Pepper begrudgingly held finger and began to walk over to him. "Half a mo."

Artemis rounded on Phil at warp speed the moment Pepper was out of earshot. "_Is _this about the Avengers? If it is, you'd tell me, right? This is SHIELD's plan? Stop Loki with a slapdash team of remarkable people, some of whom are kind of scary? I mean, Dr. Banner is super-duper smart, but the dude's got some serious anger issues. And don't even get me started on Thor; the man's forearm is the size of my neck! Wait, how are you going to get Thor to get here from Asgard? _That's_ going to be awkward, considering it's his brother who's, like, trying to take over the world. But what about Ste—"

"_Artemis,_" Phil interrupted her barrage of questions in a low voice.

She stopped mid-word, her mouth half open and her eyes wide enough that white was visible all around her brown iris. "Uhh… Right." She grimaced slightly, biting her lip. "'_Rule number twenty-four: no stream-of-consciousness onslaughts.' _Sorry. My mouth kind of got a head of my brain." She looked down at the gleaming floor and she nudged it with her medical boot.

"Artemis," the agent repeated, a bit less severely.

She glanced up at Phil. He opened his mouth, words on the tip of his tongue, when the redhead cut him off. "You _would _tell me, though, wouldn't you?" Her expression grew serious. "Because you know if you don't, I _will_ get ahold of Tasha's new access codes if it kills me, and find out that way. I'm very good at figuring things out." Her chin raised slightly, her nose sticking in the air. "So are we gonna do this the easy way, or the – oh, oh my god, what is she _doing_?" Artemis' voice lowered to a whisper and her eyes drifted to something behind Phil. Her nose crinkled and her lip curled like she smelled something awful. "Is she – is she _licking_ his ear?! Is that even…? Oh my god, Phil, my virgin eyes!" She continued to stare, a slightly horrified expression gracing her face. Phil Coulson spun on his heel, eyes landing on Pepper Potts and Tony Stark in the back of the room, Pepper leaned towards Stark's ear, engaging in something definitely _not_ PG rated.

Artemis was suddenly turned on a dime in the opposite direction, not looking wide-eyed at the elevator doors. "_Artemis,_" Phil huffed out her name for the third time, and although she couldn't see his face, Artemis knew he was rolling his eyes "You're seventeen. Don't be so childish."

"Phil, I'm not being _childish_," she hissed, attempting to keep her voice quiet. "Yes, most of the time I have the humor of a twelve-year-old boy and the mental acquisitiveness of an infant, but my reaction to _that_, whatever _that_ was," she shuddered, "was hardly _childish_."

"So, any chance you guys are driving by La Guardia?"

The voice caused Artemis to swing a one-eighty, her wild hair flying and a nervous smile plastered on her face. "Hi, Pepper!"

"Um, hi, Artemis," Pepper replied, her grin hesitant as she eyed the teenager. She glanced at Phil, who simply shook his head, advising her not to ask. "Anyway, I was going to take a plane to DC tomorrow, but since you're already here, mind dropping me off?"

"We can drop you," Phil replied kindly, pushing the button for the elevator.

Artemis turned away from the two adults as they began to discuss _adult-y_ things as they all waited for the elevator. She tried to run a hand through her hair – a habitual thing she always seemed to do when she has nothing else to do – but her fingers got stuck in the tangled curls. Not brushing it in three days will do that.

Someone calling her attention pulled her out of her musings. "Yo, Greek goddess of the hunt, come here for a minute." It took Artemis a second to figure out that the 'Greek goddess of the hunt' was supposed to be her, a reference to her first name. It took another second to realize it was Tony Stark who had called her over, and she fumbled down the few steps from the elevator towards where he stood at his workbench, walking lopsided thanks to the extra weight on her left foot. She gazed at the multiple holographic screens he had surrounding him of SHIELD's files on all of the potential Avenger candidates. She stopped next to him, watching a bit of a video of the Hulk rampaging around, lifting up a military tank while another video showed old newsreels of Captain America during World War II. There was a headshot of a smiling Thor; the picture looked like it had been taken on a cellphone. Further to the right she noticed a file on her sister, Natasha's face neutral and absolutely flawless (Artemis never understood how Tasha is so photogenic even while she's kicking bad-guy ass).

Next to Tasha's file was Clint's, and it felt like a hand was squeezing her lungs and she was choking again, except this time there was no Asgardian to hold her aloft by the throat.

She almost jumped when the man next to her spoke again. "So, what's your role in all this?" He gestured to the screens in front of him.

Artemis shook her head slightly in an attempt to clear her thoughts. "I – I don't have a role."

"No superpowers? No secret talents? Can you kill me with only a bottle opener and a rubber band?"

"Uh, no," Artemis replied lamely. "That would be my sister. I'm just me." She paused, looking down on her hands, laid flat on the tabletop. "Just Artemis."

Stark's eyes narrowed at her like he didn't believe her. "Well, _Just Artemis_, I have an inkling we'll be seeing each other again very soon. Until then," He grabbed one her small hands in his own and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it, perhaps a bit dramatically. "It's been a pleasure."

Artemis sputtered out a reply, her cheeks warming to a charming pink. "Oh, um, o—okay. I mean – I mean, you – you too, Mr. Stark." His wink caused her to become even more flustered, stumbling slightly as she walked backwards towards the elevator.

She swiveled around as she almost fell walking up the stairs, Phil giving her a strange look. "Don't tell me you forgot how to use your legs, Artemis. I'm not carrying you out of here."

"What?" she asked, completely bewildered. Pepper tried to hide her laugh behind a delicate hand. The teenager, now in the elevator, turned back around at Stark's voice.

"Hey, twin of Apollo." He was smiling more than smirking now, and something sparkled in his hazelnut eyes. "Call me Tony."

As the elevator doors slid shut and Pepper let out an unobstructed laugh, Artemis saw her reflection in the mirrored walls. A flush-faced girl stared back at her, hair askew and mouth slightly ajar. She could see Phil smirking behind her, and once Pepper's laughing died down, he spoke. "Thank god you didn't blurt about the life-sized cardboard cutout you have of him in your closet. Even _I_ would have blushed."

Her flush now rivaled the color of her hair and Pepper burst into another bout of giggles.

* * *

**AN: Another chapter down! I figures a longish chapter would help make up for the previous one. Anywho, finally some Tony action! Hope you all enjoyed it! Also hope no one was OOC. PLEASE tell me what you think! I'm not going to post the next chapter until I get at least 10 reviews, so PLEASE review! I really want to know what everyone thinks, and if people are enjoying this story, if I should change anything, if anyone has suggestions. I'm open to anything! (:**

**-Z**


	6. Chapter 6: I Know You Care

**_6. I Know You Care_**

* * *

"_Clint, this is so awesome!" young Artemis exclaimed as she ran up the steps of the museum, dodging the other guests to get to the door faster, her tennis shoes slapping against the cement. She tugged the archer along by the hand, his much larger than hers and calloused, rougher. He laughed behind her when they entered the enormous building and she turned in a circle, trying to take in her surroundings all at once as her red hair swung around her. "Look, there's the skeletons," she said, pointing further in the museum, the sleeve of her thin sweater riding up her arm slightly. "And up there, we can see real-life mummies!" She pointed a finger to the upper floors of the museum, a grin plastered on her youthful face. "This is so awesome," she repeated, swinging their joined hands._

_Clint Barton chuckled again, squeezing her hand affectionately as he ran his other one through his short blonde hair. "You're the only ten-year-old I know who wants to go to the Smithsonian on her birthday." He slid his hand from hers and reached his arm over her shoulders, pulling the young girl to him. People walked around the duo, pointing at paper maps and scurrying in all directions in khaki shorts and polo shirts. The noise of tourists and footfalls were amplified by the largeness of the building._

_Artemis nudged him with her hip and smiled up at him toothily. "I'm the only eleven-year-old you know, Clint." She turned back to the museum, her eyes bright. "Come on, we've got to get started if you wanna see it all before it closes!" She pulled the man along again, leading them under an archway to a separate room. _

_The exhibit was crowded, and she felt Clint's hand tighten around her our as they weaved around families and individuals, Artemis chiming out an "excuse me" every few seconds. The girl glared at the large crowd that was formed in front of the skeleton of a giant sea turtle, and she slipped her hand out of Clint's, the desire to get even closer overcoming her. She dived into the mob, Clint's panicked words of "Arty! Arty, come back here!" falling on deaf ears._

_The small girl weaved through the other patrons' legs, eager to see the bones up close. "'Scuse me. Coming through. Watch out." She crawled through to the front of the mass of people, looking up wide-eyed at the huge skeleton. She didn't notice the background noise fade away as she placed her small palms on the glass in awe. She didn't pay any attention to the lights around her going out, surrounding her in blackness except for the circle of light on her and the exhibit._

_The small girl waved a hand behind her without looking away from the turtle skeleton. She could see her faint reflection in the glass, small girl with wild red hair and soft, childish features looking back. "Clint, you have to see this!" Her voice echoed slightly. Her brows knitted together when she heard no response. "Clint?"_

_Her gasp was loud when she turned around saw the darkness crowding her. She stepped back into the wall of glass separating her and the display, her small hands shaking. She looked all around her, but the blackness was enduring. "H—hello?" She called out, her tiny voice wavering as it echoed again. "Is… Is anyone there?"_

_She heard a light click off behind her, and turned to see the exhibit behind the glass dark. She yelped and jumped back when she saw her clear reflection in the dark glass._

_The girl looking back at her was much older. Her brown eyes bulged from her head with shock and her fuller chest rose and fell quickly under a green sweater. The fiery ringlets that erupted from her head reached the middle of her back and swung somewhat from the sudden turn she had just taken. Her mouth was ajar, full lips separated as if she was about to speak, and her pale skin looked almost translucent, like a ghost. She was taller and her curves were fuller, wide hips drawing the focus. She looked to be about seventeen._

_Artemis realized that the girl staring back at her in the reflected glass was herself._

_She blinked her eyes and they flashed a bright, unnatural blue in the reflection. She inhaled quickly and blinked again in surprise, her eyes once again the dark brown that they had always been._

_Artemis reached up a hand, startled to see it still small like a child's, and she watched as her older reflection mimicked her as she placed her palm on the glass. When the two palms touched, the spotlight above her went out._

_It was on again in a matter of milliseconds. What was reflected in the glass this time caused a scream to rip from the girl's throat._

_She whirled around to see Loki there, inches from her, with a sickly sweet smile on his pointed face. His hair was messier than last she had seen him, no longer slicked back against his neck; it fell around his face in messy strands, framing his sharp cheekbones. His eyes glowed the same artificial blue that hers had just been, except there was something that glimmered in them, like when light reflects off of a watch face or a screen. She brought her small arms up to her chest on some ingrained human instinct, but the Norse god grabbed her, his long fingers cold as they wrapped around her wrists. Her breaths came out in uneven pants. "What's the matter, darling," Loki asked innocently, his thin lips quirked upward. His face suddenly contorted in anger, eyebrows drawing together, eyes turning fierce, and his upper lip curling. "Don't you want to play?"_

_Suddenly, the scene around her changed, Loki going up in smoke. Her surroundings brightened like someone had just turned on all of the lights at once, and she had to shield her eyes with her arm. Once her eyes adjusted, she found herself on the main bridge of the Helicarrier. The metal floor gleamed with reflected sunlight, and when Artemis looked around, she noticed that she was completely alone; there were no SHIELD agents in navy blue uniforms sitting at their computers or rushing in and out of the large room. There was simply silence, and the silence was thick as mud._

_She walked to the conference table in the middle of the upper level of the bridge, looking down at the glass surface. Her seventeen-year-old face stared back at her; messy hair, full lips, slightly crooked nose from when she broke it when she was twelve. She looked at her hands, making sure her reflection wasn't another trick. Sure enough, her fingers were long and slim, compared to her ten-year-old chubby fingers, not having had grown out of her baby fat by then. She sighed in relief._

_Her head snapped to the right when she heard a sound from the nearby hallway. She cautiously took a few steps towards the entrance to the hall, realizing the sound was footsteps, which were becoming increasingly louder every second. She peeked around the corner cautiously, her arms drawn to her chest. Her sigh was heavy when she saw who was marching towards her and the Helicarrier bridge. "Clint, thank _god_." She stepped further into the entryway to the hall, on hand falling to rest on her hip. "I've been looking everywhere for you." When he didn't respond or show any indication of hearing her, her brows knitted together. And when he didn't show any sign of sopping in his stride, she took a step back, a cold feeling seeping into her stomach. "Clint?" His eyes remained unwavering, staring straight through her. The grin that usually graced his face was completely gone, his lips a thin line in what seemed like determination. His muscular arms swung at his sides with every step, his black boots hitting the floor and echoing up and down the hallway. Artemis looked back to his eyes, and for the first time, noticed they were brighter than usual. A swimmable blue. A synthetic blue._

_Artemis stumbled back as the man she saw as family stepped into the bridge. Her face was ashen and her palms were quickly covered in sweat. She felt like her blood vessels might burst because her heart was pumping blood so fast. "Clint?" she asked again, the name struggling out of her throat like the five letters were crawling slowly out of her voice box._

_The archer did not stop his stride, which forced her to stagger backwards until her back hit the bars that separated the upper level from the lower one a few feet below. Artemis froze as Clint strode up to her, and before she could even take in another breath, the force of a hit to her cheek caused her to fall backwards over the bars and down to the lower level of the bridge. She hit the floor with a thud and she felt the wind get knocked out of her lungs, eyes watering. Her blurry vision did not miss her attacker hop over the bars with one hand and land on his feet next to her, jerking her up off the floor by the front of her sweater, only to punch her again. She felt his knuckles dig into her cheekbones and her teeth, and she was sent sprawling across the floor and into the side of one of the many desks on the ground floor. The bitter taste of blood filled her mouth and her cheek was stinging in pain as she slumped against the desk, completely helpless. She could barely see Clint Barton striding over to her with his face completely blank because one of her eyes was swollen almost completely shut. When he did reach her, he pulled her up and hit her again and again, not letting her fall back to the floor until her screamed echoed off of the Helicarrier's metal walls, begging him to stop. Tears slid down her face and mixed with blood streaming from her nose and mouth and the all over her face, a choked sob escaping her. The breath in her lungs left her when a steel-toed boot came in contact with her abdomen, and he doubled over, hands and knees on the floor. Her ginger curls fell all around her as Artemis spit blood out of her mouth and watched it splatted on the floor, the dark red dripping from her lips and mixing with her tears that flowed steadily from her watery brown eyes._

_She was suddenly pulled up from her hair, forcing her to sit up on her knees. This time, Clint didn't hit her; he easily slipped a gun out of the holster on his thigh and cocked it, not hesitating when he pointed it down at her._

"_Clint… Clint, please." The plea clawed at her vocal chords. Her eyes, puffed and swollen, met his, the blue glowing even brighter as a shot rang out._

* * *

Artemis woke with a gasp, her heart pounding and her eyes shooting open as she bolted up from her slouched position, immediately regretting the decision when a shooting pain sparked in her neck. She squeezing her eyes shut again and brought a hand up to rub the sore spot on her neck, wincing as she tried to massage out the stiffness. She creaked her eyes open, looked around at her surroundings. Disoriented from her dream, she tried to gain her bearings. Curved metal ceiling. Uncomfortable seats. Phil sitting at the navigation center with huge helicopter headphones over his ears.

Oh yeah. Quinjet. Right.

Artemis glanced at Phil, sighing in relief when she saw he hadn't noticed her abrupt awakening. Good. She knew if he had seen her, she knew he would indefinitely question her about it, making sure she was _okay,_ whatever that was. She leaned back in her seat and rubbed her eyes, breathing deeply. She could hear her blood pumping steadily in her ears like the bass of a pop song.

"Having trouble sleeping?"

She jumped slightly, having forgotten the man that was sitting a few seats away. How she could've forgotten about him she didn't know – he was Captain America, for God's sake. Artemis turned her head, wincing as her neck hit that sore spot again, and glanced over to Steve Rogers, who was looking at her from the corner of his eyes. "I'm fine," she insisted, rubbing her neck and hoping he would drop the subject.

He didn't, of course. "Nightmares?" he asked, a blond brow rising in question. He set the pad Phil had given him to review in his lap and turned his body more towards her in his seat. It was like there was some emotion right under his face but he was veiling it. Slight quirk of his left eyebrow. His lips just barely pursed. Eyes so sincere that Artemis got a physical pain in her chest.

The redhead glanced at him sidelong, considering the captain. He had been nothing but nice to her since his arrival, all small smiles and shrugging shoulders and _yes ma'am_'s. When Artemis had insisted they listen to her iPod, saying she he totally _needed_ to hear these people called Paul and George and John and Ringo, he happily obliged, one earphone in his right ear and the other in her left (she had pretended that that she didn't see Phil's jealous narrowed eyes.) They sat next to each other listening to new and old songs for at least an hour, until Artemis had began to nod off to _"Don't Let Me Down"_, and moved another seat over, saying she didn't want to fall asleep on his shoulder. Of course, Captain Rogers had said no, it's okay, but she had ignored him and moved anyway.

Then there was the Clint. And Loki. And Clint again, except this time he was beating her senseless without a flinch or a hesitation, his eyes glowing that hideous, unnatural blue.

Also the gun. How could she forget the gun?

Now they were here, and Artemis was considering him, trying to decide is she really wanted to open this can of worms and drop them on the Captain's head.

She sighed, getting up and moving to the seat right next to him. She plopped down and crossed her legs, not looking at him. "Yeah. I mean, if you want to call them that." She leaned back in her seat and sighed again, staring at the opposite wall. "It was pretty scary."

There was a silence for a few seconds, and then: "Do you want to talk about it?"

Artemis turned to him, the white of her eyes showing around her chocolate brown irises. "I dreamed my whole iTunes library had been deleted."

Steve Rogers blinked. And then he blinked again. A blond eyebrow rose, incredulous.

The girl continued her explanation, waving her hands animatedly. "Do you understand the gravity of that situation? 5,000 songs, all gone! Vanished out of thin air!" She poked him in the chest. "If you dreamed all of your music Glen Miller and Frank Sinatra records had disappeared, you'd wake up short of breath, too. I can hear you now," her voice raised to a comical pitch, "_'No, not Frankie!'_ I bet Captain America would cry for _days_ if his classic 1940s vinyl's were stolen." Artemis looked at the super soldier, hoping the man wouldn't ask any more questions. She had decided half of the truth would work, and hopefully keep him satisfied until the next time she awoke with a gasp or was talking in her sleep.

The corner of his lips quirked up into a small smile and she sent a silent thanks to whatever god was watching over her. He crossed his arms, his brown leather jacket stretching over his biceps. "You can call me Steve, ma'am."

"Fine, 'Steve, ma'am', but then you have to call me Artemis. Or Arty. Although, 'Your Royal Highness, 'The Cool One', and 'Queen' are also expectable alternatives." The teenager grinned slyly, gently shoving him with her sweater-covered elbow.

"I think I'll stick with 'Artemis'," Steve said, chuckling.

"Pshh. Whatever." She rolled her eyes playfully, and then indicated the screen still sitting in lap of his khakis, half wanting to change the subject, half genuinely curious. "What were you watching?"

Steve looked down at the pad like he had forgotten it was there. He picked it up and started playing the video that had been paused, a roar erupting from the speakers of the thin screen. "It's uhh, it's files on everyone else that's being called in."

Artemis leaned over Steve's arm, her curiosity overcoming her as she watched the video, transfixed on the huge green _thing_ that was flipping over cars and destroying buildings. "That's Doctor Bruce Banner, isn't it?"

Steve glanced at the name on the top of the screen. "Yeah, it is."

"I've read about him," Artemis clarified, still watching the bad-quality video. It looked like it had been taken with a cell phone or something of that sort. She ran a hand through her tangled hair. "He's unbelievably smart, number one scientist in gamma ray research and nuclear physics. Had and accident with gamma radiation, that's what turned him into the Jolly Green Giant." She glanced at Steve, her face uncharacteristically serious. "Destroyed half of New York a couple years ago." She trailed off and looked back down at the screen, biting her lip. "I read he's actually a really nice person when he's not The Hulk. The quiet type, likes to keep to himself. Kind of like a hippie, but without the drugs." Artemis flinched and sat back as The Hulk threw something towards the camera, barely missing it. "Actually, maybe drugs wouldn't be so bad."

Steve side-eyed her. "Where did you read all of that?"

"Classified SHIELD files, but that's beside the point," she answered, waving her hand in dismissal.

"Um…" Steve hesitated, tearing his eyes away from the footage to stare questioningly at the side of Artemis' head. "…Okay."

Just then, the copilot spoke up for the first time since the Quinjet took off, turning his head slightly towards the cabin. "We're about forty minutes out from home base, sir."

Artemis' eyes jumped to Phil as he stood from his seat at the navigation center and stretched, placing his helicopter headphones on the control panel. He walked over to Artemis and Steve, leaning against the metal wall next to them and looking down to watch the video on the pad as well.

"So this 'Doctor Banner' was trying to replicate the serum they used on me?" Steve asked, looking up at Phil. Artemis glanced up at him too, tucking a loose tendril behind her ear and waiting for his answer.

"A lot of people were," Phil explained, sliding one of his hands into his trouser pocket. He shrugged. "You were the world's first super hero. Banner thought gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine's original formula." Phil's gaze left the Steve and focused on Artemis, icy blue eyes locking with dark brown ones. They shared a silent conversation, unbeknownst to The Captain, Phil slightly narrowing his eyes at the teenager. Artemis quirked a brow and looked back down at the video as another roar sounded from the screen, ignoring Phil's questioning stare.

The green monster snarled and threw a truck into a tall building, half of the structure crumbling to the ground. "Didn't really go his way, did it?"

Artemis glanced at the man sitting next to her, noticing the change in his tone. His face was hard as he watched the footage, lips pursed and brows knitted, two little lines appearing between them. The girl frowned, and decided she didn't like that look on him.

Phil sighed above them. "Not so much. When he's not that thing, though, the guy's like a Steven Hawking." When Steve looked up at him, confused, Phil stuttered out an explanation. "He's – He's like a, like a smart person."

Artemis rolled her eyes and stood, stretching her arms over her head. "A _really_ smart person," she added, glaring at Phil. "He's like, the smartest person in the whole entire world. Phhfft. _A smart person._" She reached down to touch her toes, continuing her stretching routine, her hair falling over her face.

She straightened back up when Phil started talking to Steve again, smoothing her dark green sweater down her front. "I gotta say, it's an honor to meet you. Officially."

_Oh god,_ she thought to herself, _here we go. _She leaned against the opposite wall to watch the exchange with a small grin. If there was anyone who knew the full extend of Phil Coulson's obsession with Captain America, it was Artemis Romanoff. The ginger had warmed up soup in _Captain America _microwavable bowls while staying at Phil's house many times. She had seen the senior SHIELD agent's personal office, which was littered with red, white, and blue paraphernalia relating to the super soldier. And then there were those god-forsaken trading cards that he kept inside twelve layered Ziploc bags. Don't even get her started on those.

"I sort of met you," Phil explained further, moving away from the wall to stand in front of The Captain. "I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping."

The noise that came out of Artemis was definitely _not_ human. Whether it was a snort or a hoot, she would never decide, but she had to bite her thumb to keep from bursting out in laughter. Especially at the way Steve looked away and down at his loafers, doing a horrible job at hiding his grin.

Phil trekked on, ignoring the noises Artemis was making on the other side of the jet. "I mean, I was – I was _present_, while you were _unconscious... _From the _ice._" He followed after the Captain, who stood and walked over to look out the front window of the jet. "You know, it's really, it's just a – just a huge honor to have you on board." The agent hit the wall of the jet like that final statement covered up his previous ones with a huge literary Band-Aid.

Artemis shook her head, still struggling not to laugh as she walked over to the two men, standing in between them with her arms crossed over her chest. She turned slightly towards Phil, her voice barely a whisper. "_So_ much second hand embarrassment right now, Philly Cheese." The glare she received was downright deadly, but it didn't unnerve her as she leaned against the older man's side, lifting his arm and bringing it around her shoulders. She craned her neck towards him. "You know you love me."

Steve pretended he hadn't heard the quiet conversation next to him and sighed, leaning into the entrance of the cockpit. "Well I hope I'm the man for the job," he said, looking pensively out the front window at the speeding ocean below them.

"Oh you are, absolutely," Phil answered quickly, looking up at him in earnest. "We, uhh, we made some modifications to the uniform." He shrugged shyly. "I had a little design input." Artemis rolled her eyes and bumped her hip with his.

Steve looked at them both, those two little lines appearing in between his eyebrows, except this time in confusion. "The uniform?"

"Well, yeah, you've got to have a uniform when you're fighting bad guys." Artemis leaned forward in emphasis. "I saw the updated version – totally _badass_. You've got your star," she made a circle on her chest with her hands, "And your stripes," she made lines down her abdomen, "and let's not forget those cute little wings on your helmet - _so_ adorable. You'll defeat evil with your cuteness alone. The villains will bow down at your fashion and style." She placed her palms together and bent at the waist, mocking a bow at the man with a mischievous grin.

Phil glanced down at her, looking utterly unimpressed. "Where did _you_ see the new uniform?"

The girl's smile fell, and she loosened her collar. "Uhh, definitely _not_ classified SHILED files, if – if that's what you're wondering."

Phil's tense glare was put to rest at Steve's words. "Are the stars and stripes a little…" he subtly bobbed his head left and right, searching for the right words. "Old fashioned?"

Phil sighed, subconsciously pulling the redhead girl more to him. "Everything that's happening… The things that's about to come to light… People might just need a little old fashioned."

Artemis looked up at Phil, a mixture of curiosity and concern written over her features. This man had practically raised her for the last nine years of her life, made her into the young woman she is now. He taught her how to shoot a gun and throw a punch, but also the importance of personal discovery and the value of compassion. To hold onto the things that make you happy, because they will get snatched away the moment you stop clutching them. To trust no one except the ones you can trust with your life, and that you should always carry pepper spay and a box of matches on your person at all times.

She didn't usually throw around the phase 'I love you', because she knew, with the life she lived, people came and went regularly, never likely to return. But she tried to tell Phil she loved him as often as possible, because she couldn't bear the thought of him being snatched away without him knowing that.

There was Natasha, her big sister and eternal best friend, who would come home after a month long mission and eat pizza and gossip about the new SHIELD recruits and watch James Dean movies with Artemis no matter how many times they both had seen them. Artemis knew Natasha tries to keep her in the dark on some things SHIELD deals with, not wanting her kid sister to have to a life synonymous to the Black Widow's. But Artemis was determined and stubborn, a trait both of them shared, and the teenager had always wanted to be just like her older sister. Tasha had been there since the beginning, since Volgograd and mom and dad and the fire, and she had reminded Artemis many times that she didn't plan on going anywhere, either.

Clint had been in Artemis' life just as long as Phil, except the archer was completely different than the older SHIELD agent. Clint was a daredevil and a fun-lover, and often cajoled Artemis to tag along. Not that the girl needed any convincing – she'd been following Clint just about everywhere since her arrival at SHIELD, jumping at the opportunity to simply be breathing the same air as the man. Clint never minded. He used to put her on his shoulders and run through the halls of whatever SHIELD base they were stationed at, little Artemis whooping and extending her arms like she was an airplane. When she got too big for his shoulders, he would carry her on his back like a turtle shell, and she'd still yell happily every time they rounded a corner. He had tried to teach her archery, which did not end well; Artemis had ended up shooting an arrow through at least three windows and hitting a bird that happened to be flying by. Clint had been pretty impressed that she had shot a moving object, but Artemis had broken down in tears at seeing the dead animal with an arrow through its chest. They decided never to try that again.

But Phil was her rock, her driftwood when she was lost at sea. Artemis knew she could go to him for anything, even though he might lecture her for a few minutes and maybe glare at her a little bit. In the end, though, he would fix whatever was broken. And the broken thing usually happened to be her.

She'll never forget what he had said to her when she came to him once, tears running endlessly down her cheeks as she blabbered about how the SHIELD interns were gossiping about her and that they were right, she's just some kid who's not cut out for this sort of life, and god, why can't she be like strong like Natasha and not like _this_, indicating herself. Phil sat her down in the seat on the other side of his desk and looked at her hard in the eyes.

"_Don't you dare, for one more second, surround yourself with people who are not aware of your greatness."_

Phil was her anchor, keeping her firmly on the ground. Artemis looked up at him, her brows drawn together. She leaned into his side even more, and she felt his arm squeeze her shoulders. He looked out through the front window at the ocean rocketing below the Quinjet, his lips tight in a thin line. God, if she lost Phil, she would lose herself.

* * *

**AN: OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! My mom had 2 surgeries, and then my grandma came to stay with us, and now it's spring break and just UGH so much was going on! But I swear I am _not_ giving up on this story! I hope to get another chapter out before the weekend is over, but we'll see how that goes. Also, sorry for any mistakes in grammar or spelling or punctuation - I was trying to whip this chapter out ASAP as to not keep you guys waiting for much longer.**

**ACK Arty finally meets Steve! I literally wrote this chapter like 7 times because I didn't know how to start it. Hopefully it's not too bad - this chapter still felt like a bit of a doozy to me. Also, I hope no one was too OOC, I tried to make Steve as Steve-y as possible. Let me know what you think and REVIEW!(:**

**~Z**


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